OOM: Elysium or Shephard's quest for an arm.

[brave_kreyu]

Even before the Combine came, Shephard's world had few places left that had never known the touch of men. This forest has no name, for no tribe of wanderers has ever dared to settle here, to harvest the mighty oaks that tower far above his head.

It is nearly noon on Midsummer's day, but little light reaches Shephard and Kreyu down here on the forest floor. The only thing of note in the clearing is a large ring of mushrooms, a formation sometimes called a faerie ring.

Comments

[brave_kreyu]

The sword slides home and the boar still struggles, trying to gore him even in her death throes.

But she is too weak for her tusks to find their mark and she struggles less and less until at last the life goes out of her.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard's just gonna pant for a while, because that was hard and nerve-wracking. Also, he's only really got one hand to lean against his own knees with; the other arm isn't good for bracing himself right now. Then he's gonna look up.

"Duir? Duir, boy, you okay?"

[brave_kreyu]

Duir wuffs reassuringly and moves near Shephard to allow the man to brace himself with Duir's bulk.

[hecu_marine]

"Oh, good," says Shephard, and exhales soundly as he leans against the dog.

After a while he adds, "Gon' have to skin that fucker in a minute. You want any of the offal, boy?"

He's aware that legendary animals' blood and hearts apparently have legendary properties- it happened with that salmon- but, shit. The dog earned it. All Shephard's here for is a hand- and maybe a tusk if the Master Smith doesn't need them all.

[brave_kreyu]

The way that Duir perks up at the offer and starts wagging his tail is probably a yes.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard smiles crookedly and wipes the sword on the pig's hide. This isn't a sword's job, this is a knife's, and flint knives've cut elephant hide before. If the stone can do it, that's what he'll use, and if not... well, Achilles isn't here to stop him.

[brave_kreyu]

The knife will work well enough.

It's a messy business, butchering a boar this size, but he'll manage it by the time the sun gets low in the sky.

[hecu_marine]

It's probably worse what with the one arm and all. But, hell, he'll do what he can, and then he'll make sure the dog gets whatever offal it wants, and then the hide and the tusks are coming with him. The beasts of the forest are just going to have to be content with the pork. There's no way he's going to take even the slightest chance of consuming part of the animal; this was a kill for someone else, and they're going to get what they asked for.

"Ready when you are, Duir. Let's git a move on."

[brave_kreyu]

Duir is full of offal, so he's happy to get a move on and lead the human back to the home of the Master Smith.

Dinner and a large bucket of water, soap, and some cloth for washing with will be waiting for him when he gets there.

The Smith and Kreyu both greet him with a smile. "You have done well, warrior," he begins, "and earned your boon from me."

[hecu_marine]

"Thank you kindly, sir," says Shephard, and lays the bundle of skin and tusks down at the Smith's feet. "Sure do 'preciate it."

That sounded like there was more coming, though, so he's going to wait a moment to see what else needs to be said.

[brave_kreyu]

"Rest awhile and replenish your strength," he continues. "There is water drawn for washing and a hot meal waiting."

He turns to Kreyu. "I am afraid I must ask you to depart for a time, Shadow Spinner. A work such as I will attempt is a delicate thing when it is being made, and your innate magic may disrupt its structure."

Kreyu nods, "I had wondered if that might be so."

He nods. "My brother has offered his hospitality and wishes to speak with you." He smiles. "It may be just as well that he has offered you his hospitality. I have no doubt that I can forge the boon, but binding it to living flesh will likely take my brother's touch as well as my own craft."

[hecu_marine]

Shephard's busy washing as best he can, and trying not to look too much like he's got his ears perked up. Eavesdropping is bad form, but sometimes it's the only way to get information. And anyway, who knows if he might get asked a question before he gets to eat and rest?

[brave_kreyu]

He won't have to eavesdrop long, as Kreyu will come over and explain what she and the Smith were discussing.

"I must leave you here for a time, so that my innate magic will not disrupt his crafting. I would ask that you do what he asks of you, as those things will aid in the making of your arm."

She smiles. "His brother is a healer, and I suspect he will be helping get your arm attached once it is finished."

[hecu_marine]

"All right," says Shephard, "I c'n live with that. He need anything else from me in the meantime?"

[brave_kreyu]

"I do not think so," Kreyu replies with a shake of her head.

She grins. "Hopefully, I will see you again soon, and with your new arm."

Once Shephard has washed up and he and the Smith have eaten, the Smith beckons him over to a worktable. On the table is a small, very sharp knife and a small bronze disk.

"These are the means of an old ritual, one that reveals secrets in the blood. If you would make a small cut and shed a few drops of blood on the disk there, it will give me a better idea of how the dweomers must intertwine in your hand."

[hecu_marine]

Shephard nods and picks up the knife. "Just for the record?" he says. "I already know there's some nasty habits in my family tree. Grandma Lundberg told me 'bout most of 'em years ago."

He's not really sure what other secrets there might be in his blood- he's got secrets, sure, but they're things like being afraid of the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. He's already come clean about Black Mesa to everyone concerned, so those blood secrets are long since gone...

Well, it doesn't matter. He's just gonna... there's a spot on the back of his right forearm that ought to be okay for drawing the blood. That'll heal up quick enough.

[brave_kreyu]

As the blood drips onto the bronze disk it twists and flows into symbols that are meaningless to Shephard.

"Well now, that's interesting," the Smith remarks, peering at the patterns. "You've seers blood in you, but the blood is thin and weak."

His finger moves down, tracing another symbol. "And you carry the names of your brothers and sisters who are gone, for you are the first and the last."

[hecu_marine]

The first part doesn't really ring any bells for Shephard. He's from a big family, from a long line of big families. Saying somebody further back up the tree had some kind of talent in the blood is like saying the family's related to a dead President or the English royal family- interesting, but what difference does it make?

The second part, though-

"Only," he says firmly. "Not last. I ain't never gonna be the last, sir. Only."

[brave_kreyu]

"Only, then. Though I think not for long," he remarks as he starts to measure Shephard's arm.

"Would you tell me your story as I work?"

Many things will go into this working: silver, stardust, the roots of a mountain, the breath of a fish, the footfalls of a cat...but the part that will make it HIS is the tale of Shephard's life woven into the metal.

Somehow, there is time enough before sunrise for Shephard to tell his whole life's story as the Smith shapes the metal that will be his hand. (It is only when the work is done that the Marine will feel utterly exhausted, drained. Has he been talking for hours, days, weeks? It is impossible to say.)

When the tale ends, the hand and arm sit upon the table in gleaming silver. It looks like nothing more and nothing less than his old arm rendered silver. There are no seams, no joints, no sign of how the thing was made....

The Smith speaks once more. "All that remains to be done is the binding of the work to your flesh."

[hecu_marine]

The last time Shephard lost track of time like this, and came out of it feeling like this, he'd heard an awful lot of dead men and women speak their names. What came out of that night he's still not entirely sure, but as for today...

Well.

"That's a... that's a damn fine lookin' piece of work, sir," Shephard says, staring at the hand and forearm. "What needs doin' to git it set up?"

[brave_kreyu]

The Smith gives a satisfied grunt at Shephard's response to the sight of the arm. "I'll need my brother's help for this last task. My art is with metal and not living flesh."

"And you shall have it," says a man coming through the doorway who looks an awful lot like the Smith. Kreyu coming through the door behind him likely confirms his identity. "Glad am I that the beast that nearly slew my son will trouble us no further."

Kreyu is carrying what looks like a large, bronze, cauldron with some kind of liquid sloshing inside of it.

[hecu_marine]

"Glad I took it down then, sir," says Shephard to the Smith's brother. "It ain't often I run into critters that put up a fight like that."

[brave_kreyu]

"I should hope not," the Physician replies with a chuckle. "I would fear for the courage of our warriors if that were so!"

Kreyu grins, "Speaking of the beast, we've straps from its hide to hold your arm in place while the brew does its work."

"This brew, once hot and augmented with some of the Shadow Spinner's blood, will marry the metal to your flesh."

"Which will most likely hurt like Hell," Kreyu warns.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard considers this, and wishes for just a moment that Maripyaipok was here. The Satere-Mawe have some very definite views on pain rituals and adulthood.

But he's not, so all Shephard does is say, "I'm gonna need to git my belt off for this, less'n you got somethin' else I c'n bite down on."

[brave_kreyu]

"That will be well," the Physician replies. "It will take a few minutes for the brew to be ready at the very least."

While Shephard takes off his belt, the Smith straps the arm temporarily into place and Kreyu adds a small amount of her blood to the cauldron.